


a girl, a boy, and a graveyard

by celaenos



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Luthor family dynamics, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: Eight days after the conclusion of Lex’s trial, Lena steps across the threshold of their apartment and knows abruptly that she can’t live there anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> holy shiiiiit it's 3:30am, and i've been working on this all day, and i was supposed to be asleep like 6 hours agooooo. but i'm leaving tomorrow and gonna be gone all weekend and i wanted to get this done. so. here. 16k of a mess of luthor sibling feelings, bc i have a PROBLEM. 
> 
> some of the style and structure of this fic is inspired by/borrowed from an ohpelia fic that i read ages ago and adored. the quote near the beginning is from a Margaret Atwood book, of which I have not yet read. there are a few slurs for lesbians used at one point, to give you a heads up. also, i like to picture nathalie as having natalie dormer's face, you can take that information or leave it as you wish. 
> 
> i'm exhausted, and now i'm going to bed.

The day her brother goes mad—

No, not quite the day, so much as _days_ , really.

“ _Gone mad_ is what they say, and sometimes _Run mad_ , as if mad is a direction, like west; as if mad is a different house you could step into, or a separate country. But when you go mad you don’t go any other place, you stay where you are. And somebody else comes in.”

Lena puts the book that’s in her hands down onto the table very carefully, and tries to breathe.

—not yet.

…

…

Lex teaches her how to play chess, the first day.

It takes her a few tries to really begin to understand it, but soon half of the afternoon has slipped by, and her stuffed bear is falling off her lap, neglected as she knocks Lex’s bishop off the board. A smile creeps out onto his face, slow and easy. “Look at that, you’re a chess ace in the making,” he teases.

She doesn’t have much experience, but she’s pretty sure that most people aren’t usually this _happy_ when they lose at a game like this. Lex watches her from behind his hand, his eyes tracking her movements as her fingers hover over the pieces, a proud twinkle in his eye when she takes his rook as well.

Her bear falls all the way off of her lap, forgotten entirely, and after three more games of her doing well, but losing, she manages to take his queen. “Checkmate.”

“Nice game,” he sticks his hand out and she shakes it. “Ace it is, I guess.” His hand is warm, his smile is bright, and the nickname falls from his lips easily. Like it’s always belonged there. Lena may have just lost a mother, but she has a brother, now, and that feels a whole lot bigger than she ever could have imagined this morning.

“I really like this game,” Lena grins.

“Maybe you are a Luthor after all,” Lillian says, from the corner. Somehow, Lex smiles brighter at those words than he had been before, and Lena feels like her skin is tingling.

…

…

Her mother loves Lex better.

Which is all right with Lena, because it makes sense. Lex walks into rooms with his head held high. At ten, he has more confidence in the fact that he _belongs_ than most grown men ever gather up in their whole lives. He knows how to keep his clothes clean, how to lounge on the chaise in Lionel’s den without wrinkling his pants or leaving any trace that he has even been there at all. He's older than Lena, which she knows is important. He’s also far wittier, stronger, braver, and more charming than Lena will probably ever manage to be. He can convince the cook into slipping him brownies before supper, with a crooked smile and a deep gentlemanly bow. Her big brother, age eleven, can sweet talk nearly anyone into whatever he wants from them. Lena included.

The one exception to his charms, is their father; the only chink in Lex’s armor that Lena ever encounters. Apart from Superman.

But, that’s getting ahead of things.

Lex’s one chink turns out to be Lena’s—for lack of a better word—superpower. Lex can’t talk Lionel into anything, but Lena can. Lena can walk into a room, Lionel’s hand gripped too-tight on Lex’s forearm and start chattering away until it loosens. Twirl around her father and pull a smile from his lips, slip her hand into her big brother’s until all three of them are smiling, the finger marks blooming on Lex’s forearm forgotten.

Almost.

By the time that Lex is sixteen, he’s already had more girlfriends than Lena will probably ever have in her whole life. He knows how to expertly choke down a shot of liquor without coughing, how to make smoke rings by puffing on cigarettes, and he is always invited to all of the parties at school, though he never goes. Despite the edge that almost always echoes beneath it, his butcher-knife smile slips onto his face easier than Lena's does, dipping its way towards friendly. If Lena were her mother, she knows that she would have to love Lex better too. 

Of course, Lillian also loves Lex better because Lex is a boy. _Her boy._ In a way that Lena is _not_ her girl. And for all that Lex prefers to go fuck around with his friends after school, making things blow up in an old abandoned LuthorCorp lab, everyone who has ever seen him run, laughing wildly and taunting the cops who have the gall to tell a Luthor, even a Luthor _kid_ what to do, knows that if he ever bothered to try out for any sport he would probably be the star of them all. He’s already taking two college-level courses, slings his arm around a different girl's shoulders every week, and drives way too fast around the city in his new convertible. Lex Luthor is the envy of all of the girls and boys that he meets, and none of the women Lillian flaunts him in front of can compare their children to him. Not without reaching, and they all know it. 

Lena makes notes of it all; always watching the things that her brother does carefully, trying to mimic the confident set to his shoulders, the dimples on his cheeks. She watches the way that Lillian's face twists into a smile whenever she looks at him, (forever different than the one that she doles out to Lena) and aches with something that she isn't sure if she will ever be able to properly name. Lena listens to the music that pounds its way out of Lex's room, long after Lionel has told him to turn it down, waiting for him to invite her down the hall to dance and jump on the bed, his face splitting into a smile, reminiscent of their mother's. 

…

…

Her father loves Lena better.

Which seems only fair, since Lillian loves Lex best, even if it doesn’t make as much sense.

Lena looks at them both and sees so many similarities, that she can’t understand _why_ Lionel doesn’t just adore Lex. It’s not until many years later, long after his death, that Lena wonders if Lex reminding Lionel too much of himself, and hating him for it, means that Lionel hated himself, too.

It hurts when she breaths after that thought, for nearly a full hour.

Lionel loves Lena differently from the way that Lex loves her; he’s not as open with his affection. Where Lex will grab her hand without a second thought, it takes a lot more, for Lionel to pull her up into a spontaneous hug. It’s confusing, at first. When Lena first comes to live with them, he goes back and forth between being overly affectionate and almost looking guilty for so much as smiling at her. The only difference seems to be whether or not Lillian is in the room, and, at five, Lena has no idea what to make of that.

She still doesn’t, at ten, or thirteen, or seventeen, but she learns to ignore the sting that it brings until she hardly notices that it’s happening at all.

…

…

The day that she realizes her brother might be going mad—

No. Hold on.  

…

…

As kids, Lena finds herself tagging along after Lex; half a step behind him, always. Under feet in a way that makes him smile and laugh the first few months that she spends discovering every inch of the Luthor manor. She watches this boy, her big brother, strut around like a little king and mimics his every move. Her chin holds itself high, because Lex’s does. Her dirty fingers trail along the banister, because Lex’s do. In school, at their parent’s parties, she takes up as much space as she feels like at any given moment; Lex taps her underneath the chin, stops her from tugging at the edges of her velvet party dress because a boy complained about it splaying onto _his_ side of the couch moments earlier and says, firmly, _‘we’re Luthors Ace, this is our goddamn party.’_ Twelve years old, and cursing at every opportunity to try and make himself sound more adult, but the words fit into his mouth in a way they don’t when the other boys his age try them out.

They fit in Lena’s, too. She kicks out her legs, fans out her dresses, glares at boys double her age, and curses them out if need be, because Lex gave her permission to do so. She’s a Luthor, and this space is hers.

Any space that she wants to be, is.

At school, in the city, at LuthorCorp, it doesn’t matter; her head is up and anything that she wants to be is hers, even sometimes Lillian’s approval. At home, the kitchen, the den, their bedrooms, every part of the mansion is Lena’s domain. Every part, except Lionel’s office, is off limits.

To Lex.

It’s the first time that she is awarded something that Lex isn’t.

It’s shocking, to the entire household.

Lena watches the way that her brother’s lips pinch in the corners, the dark set of his eyes, and swallows thickly. It passes, and warm twinkle that she’s come to associate with her big brother reappears, but Lena doesn’t forget the flash of anger; she notes it down carefully, the way that she notes everything about her brother.

He likes adventure stories: Peter Pan, Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, The Three Musketeers, Robin Hood, Arthurian legends—anything that he can get his hands on. The third week that Lena lives with them, he reads her The Velveteen Rabbit one night before bed, and she can’t stop picturing her stuffed animals waking up while she’s sleeping and attacking her. She screams, and runs into Lex’s room, refusing to carry her bear along with her. Lex allows Lena to climb into his bed for the night, promising that toys don’t _actually_ come to life, but just in case, this one time, it’s fine if she wants to sleep here.

They find different stories for Lena after that. No more magical animals for a while.

Lionel has dull fencing swords, and they pretend to be knights of the round table; the two of them fighting off dragons together in the ballroom while Lex teaches her how to parry properly.

When he turns thirteen, he decides that adventures are a little childish, and mysteries are much better. He’s read all of Sherlock Holmes within a month, and Lena re-reads Harriet the Spy four times; once in between each new Nancy Drew book until she grows bored and picks up some Holmes too.

They solve the mystery of who is eating Aoife’s favorite yogurt out of the LuthorCorp break-room every week; their father’s cheerful, plump, old secretary is grateful and orders them absolutely _not_ to tell Lionel and have him fired, as they originally had planned.

Two weeks later, all Lex wants to do is learn how to skateboard. Lena begs too, and then Lionel smiles, a real, rare one that even reaches itself towards Lex, and they’ve both got scrapes and bruises in increasing amounts over the next few weeks. Lillian is busy with some fundraiser party that’s causing her to dig her fingernails into her palms with alarming regularity, and she snaps—when Lena crashes into a table and breaks a vase. Lionel orders them both to have their suitcases packed in half an hour, and then the three of them are on a plane.

“I’ve got meetings,” he says, pulling out a folder. “The two of you will have to behave.”

“Can we go to the beach?” Lena asks hopefully.

Lionel smiles, an indulgent one. It almost never means yes. “If we have time.”

Lena’s only been to National City twice that she can remember, but the LuthorCorp branch looks basically the same as the one back in Metropolis. She and Lex take full use of its much larger lobby, and soon, they’re doing Ollies to show off for the men waiting on important meetings. Lena gathers some more speed, eager to catch up with Lex, and then his board is suddenly just _gone_ from underneath him, and it goes flying in one direction, and he goes flying in another.

Lena screams.

She’s terrified when her father comes barreling into the lobby in a stormy blaze. His face is turning red, and he’s hollering at the secretary, and then crouching down in front of Lex. The word _‘don’t’_ drops from Lena’s lips before she realizes that he’s scooping Lex up into his arms, so gently, like he’s afraid to break him.

That’s when Lena sees the blood that’s covering her brother’s face, and she screams again.

Lionel calls her name, harsh and jagged, his voice almost choking on it, and Lena doesn’t want to get any closer, but the look on her father’s face leaves no room for argument. She crawls into the back of the car beside Lionel, still holding Lex in his lap, and she can’t stop staring at her brother’s face. He’s whimpering and clinging to Lionel in a way that Lena’s never seen, in all three years of living with them. Not once.

They don’t let go of each other, not when the doctors pull Lex onto a bed with wheels, not when they try to push Lionel and Lena out of the room. Lionel roars until three orderlies and a security guard come over and beg him to let the doctors do their job. Lionel turns, letting out another frustrated scream, and then Lena’s up in the air, her father clinging to her so tightly she has to grunt and ask him to stop. He’s eyes go wide and panicky again, and he holds her out in front of him.

“Did you get hurt?” he spits out, nearly flipping her all the way over to check for blood. “Did you get hurt too?”

“No,” she insists, but he’s still flipping her around. “I’m okay — Daddy!” she yells. He stills, arms locked and frozen as they hold her, nearly two feet out away from his chest. “I’m okay,” she repeats, and finally he nods and holds her close again. “I’m okay,” she whispers. “Lex is gonna be okay.”

A nurse walks out to find them, and his whole body freezes. Lena wraps an arm around his neck and presses her eyes tightly closed. “He’s alright,” the nurse says, and Lionel sucks in a ragged breath; it’s the first time that Lena’s ever seen him cry.

The nurse leads them back to the room that Lex is in, saying things like _head wounds bleed much more than most, looks scarier than it is, only a few stitches, probably won’t even end up with much of a scar, you’ve got a brave boy on your hands Mr Luthor,_ and then Lex is there in front of them. Propped up by three pillows, and sporting a huge gauze bandage on the side of his face, he smiles weakly at them. “I’m fine Dad,” he insists, though his voice is shaky.

Lena squirms out of Lionel’s hold and immediately crawls up onto the bed beside him. “Does it hurt?” she whispers, once his arm goes around her.

“Not that much,” he says, looking up at their father. He steps forward slowly and drops his palm down onto Lex’s shoulder, squeezing once without looking him in the eye, he nods.

Lex is discharged two hours later, and they’re both forbidden from using their skateboards inside LuthorCorp—or anywhere—ever again. Technically, Lionel tells them they’re both grounded for a week for doing so in the first place, but it’s the least punished that Lena has ever felt. Lionel lifts her up onto his shoulders, spends the whole rest of the afternoon smiling at Lex, and they get to eat ice cream for dinner while they watch the sun set over the beach.

Lena falls asleep in her father’s lap, no longer in his work suit as they sit together in the sand, the sound of the waves hypnotizing and calming. When she wakes, it’s fully dark out, her father shifts her in his arms as Lex stumbles, half asleep himself due to the painkillers in his system. Lena cracks an eye open and gives Lex a droopy smile when he notices that she’s awake. He sticks his tongue out at her as they walk back into their National City apartment.

Lionel sets Lena down in the guest bedroom with Lex—the apartment isn’t usually occupied by anyone other than Lionel when he travels for meetings on the West coast—the few times that he’s brought Lena or Lex can be counted on one hand.

They’re also some of her favorite moments with her family.

Lillian has never joined them that Lena knows of.

“Are you okay?” Lena whispers, once Lionel has gone into his bedroom.

Lex keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling, and it takes him a few moments before he answers. “He cried.”

It’s not an answer to her question, and he sounds like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“He was scared,” Lena rolls over so her body faces him. “So was I,” she adds, after a beat.

Lex smiles, still not looking at her. “It doesn’t really hurt that much,” he says. “I’m fine Ace,” rolling away from her, he curls into himself. Lena’s too exhausted to press any further, and she’s asleep within minutes.

The scuff marks from their skateboards are never buffed out of the LuthorCorp lobby floor. Lena checks, a few years later, while she’s waiting for her father to get out of a meeting, tracing them lightly with her own foot. A permanent reminder of their day.

She never allows it to be buffed out either, once the company becomes hers.

…

…

Metropolis is a small town, as far as the people in her parents’ circles are concerned. The gossip gets around in a matter of hours. Everything goes into the papers. On the internet. The Luthors business is everyone’s business—and not just in Metropolis.

The first time Lena sees her name in the papers, the title reads: _Adopted Daughter of Lionel and Lillian Luthor Along with Their Son, Lex, Share Ice Cream Together in the Park_. It’s nothing noteworthy, and it’s down in the lifestyle and gossip section, the name on the byline unrecognizable to Lena, or Lex. But it becomes a recurring theme: adopted daughter. Over and over and over again, every time Lena sees a mention of herself.

_Lionel Luthor takes son, Lex, age 17, and Adopted Daughter, Lena, age 11, to LuthorCorp for Annual Children’s Fundraiser._

_Lillian Luthor rings in the Y2K New Year in Style Beside, Her Son, Lex, and Adopted Daughter, Lena._

And so on, and so on.

There’s only one name on the bylines that ever just says, _daughter,_ always. Cat Grant. Lena memorizes her name, reads all of her other articles, and decides that she’s the only reporter worth reading, for a good two years.

Eventually, two other names join in with Cat Grant’s as shucking the ‘adopted’ moniker. A pair of brand new reporters from the Daily Planet who no one’s ever heard of, but who steadily become a thorn in Lionel Luthor’s side. Years later, Lena reads Lois Lane’s Pulitzer winning article in her boarding school dorm with a smirk while her roommate plugs away at their history homework. Something about the apparent rivalry between Cat Grant and Lois Lane only serves to amuse Lena. Maybe because it doesn’t feel altogether real. Like it’s something that they put on, their prickly, public way of showing admiration and affection towards each other, while telling men who expect actual cat-fights to go fuck themselves.

Lena stops reading their articles once they become the cause of Lionel’s weekly fury, but she goes back and reads each and every one after her father’s funeral. She tells Lex that he has to be better, now that he’s in charge.

For a long time, she thinks he’s living up to that promise.

…

…

Lex leaves for college on a Thursday.

His suitcases are all packed, his beloved red convertible nearly empty, save a bag of essentials tossed back into the trunk. Everything is being shipped to him. To his dorm. In Massachusetts. Hours away. The furthest that he’ll be away from her in eight years.

He stares at her, leaning against the side of his car, then he puts out a cigarette—apparently his last—and grins at her. Cocky and mischievous. “Come on Ace,” he nods, “hop in.”

He speeds. Always does, but Lena has never felt frightened in a car with him. He goes fast, but he’s never reckless—not with Lena in the car. The wind whips her dark hair into her face, and after a few minutes, she gives up trying to shove it out of the way. She leans her head back and lets the strands whip around, laughing as Lex does.

They drive to a pier, Lex buys her an ice cream, and they walk all the way out to the end of the jetty. Lena washes her sticky hands in the water while Lex keeps a steady hand holding onto the back of her shirt, so she doesn’t fall into the choppy water.

“Don’t let Mom give you any shit Ace,” he says, looking out at the dip of the bay.

“I—”

“She’s gonna,” he interrupts. “The second that I turned thirteen, she was all over me for ages, remember? Constantly in my face, asking stupid questions, and that was _me.”_ His voice is loaded; it can’t not be. They skate around the topic, always. No one in their family ever talks about Lillian’s love of Lex, or her dislike of Lena, or the reversal with Lionel. It just, _is._

“I know,” Lena mumbles quietly.” She’s already begun to endure Lillian pinching at her underarms, the sides of her stomach, heavy handed comments about becoming a woman, she _knows_ it will only get worse once Lex isn’t around to distract her. Once Lena finally has her mother’s full attention.

Lex pokes her in the side, teasingly, nowhere near how Lillian does it. He laughs and bends down into a crouch, waiting until Lena’s got a grin on her own face and is clambering up onto his back. Lex runs. Lena screams and clutches tighter to him, ducking her head down as they sprint the length of the empty pier. At the end, an old couple hollers at them and Lex bows, all charm and polite apologies, holding Lena in place on his back the whole time.

They gorge themselves on greasy burgers, fries, and milkshakes from an old diner, making a ruckus and charming the waiters by happily clearing their own plates and busing two tables when they aren’t looking. Lex tips ‘em a hundred dollars, winking at Lena as he shuffles her out the door.

The drive back home is lazy; loud music blaring, Lex doing a couple of donuts in an open field, driving way slower, so Lena can stand up in the backseat and hold her arms out, laughing wildly as the wind whips her hair around. Lex, with one hand out on her calf, steadying her. Their laughter mingling together until Lena can’t tell whose is whose anymore.

When they pull back into the manor driveway, their parents are waiting for them. Slightly stern. A goodbye dinner that more resembles a feast fit for an entire party, not four, awaits, and Lena quickly runs upstairs and washes the salt and grime from her body, tugging on a dress and hurrying back downstairs in record time. Lillian gives her a once over, but doesn’t say anything.

They toast to Lex, and Lena is allowed a sip of Lionel’s wine. She chokes on it, grimacing and shaking her head when Lex laughs offers her another sip from his own. Afterwards, they spend a rare evening in the den together, watching an old Hitchcock movie—Lillian and Lena’s favorites, not at _all_ Lex or Lionel’s—but everyone laughs and comments and eats popcorn. Twice, Lena feels her mother softly run her fingers through the ends of her hair. Her father smiles at Lex, who’s laughing and acting out a scene along with the movie, and Lena wants to bottle this whole day up and never let it go.

The illusion is shattered the moment that the end credits roll, and the lights turn back on. Lillian pulls her hands away, all her attention back on Lex, and she fusses over him until they all fall asleep, and again at breakfast the next morning.

Lillian cries. Lionel hugs Lex firmly and claps him on the back. Lena sits on the steps and digs little half-moon marks into the tops of her knees with her fingernails.

“Ace,” Lex calls, his arms open, waiting.

Lena rises on shaky legs and folds herself into them. He squeezes. Tight. Tighter, then drops a sloppy kiss to the top of her head and winks. “Give ‘em hell Ace,” his voice drops low so Lillian can’t hear. “Don’t take any shit.”

Then his car pulls out of the driveway, and Lena’s all alone.

…

…

She has her first panic attack in October.

It’s an alarmingly simple affair. Lena is lying on top of her bed and staring up at the ceiling, considering a math problem when she is suddenly and abruptly unable to breathe. She can feel tears coursing down her cheeks. Her knees, elbows, and limbs curled tight in on herself. Her mouth stretches open wide, wide; in some part of her brain that is still very calm, she thinks that she might be trying to scream for help, but there is no breath in her lungs, and no sound comes out.

It lasts for about half an hour, and then it just... stops. Lena blinks slowly at a poster on her wall, a gift from Lex, then she tugs the covers up over her head and goes to sleep without telling anyone.

By the beginning of November, her grades begin to slip and then they begin to slide. By the start of winter break, they've plummeted down to match the worst in her class. Lena doesn’t really notice at first, and by the time she is sent home with a letter from her teachers, she doesn’t really care. Lillian certainly isn't paying enough attention to Lena to notice, and Lionel is away on business trips more and more as the months tick by. Lena tosses the letter into the trash without a second thought and grabs an apple from the kitchen.

Her father is increasingly busy. Satisfied with quick cheek kisses as they pass each other in the hallways. ‘Hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ tossed into the air without any real intent for conversation. And her friends, aren’t really her friends in that sense. They’re girls like her, grouping themselves together because their parents do. They don’t talk about grades or anything important. All they talk about are the parties that their parents and siblings are invited to, clothes, and the boys that they have crushes on right now. Lena doesn’t like any boys. She never has. She just nods along and nibbles on her sandwich while the rest of them go on and on about how dreamy Sean Harris looks.

It’s easy to tune out their chatter. Easy to ignore her teachers during her classes, a more interesting book on whatever new subject Lex has sent her carefully hidden in her lap, behind a textbook, flipping pages quietly in the back of the room.

Lena knows that she is smarter than anybody else at her school; anybody in Metropolis even, except for Lex, but he’s at college, so it might not count. Lex sends her essays and articles on the subjects that he’s learning about, confident that his twelve year old sister can handle the college freshmen material. He’s never coddled her. He explains, over and over again until it slips into Lena’s brain properly. Patient and all too willing to switch up methods of explanation when one doesn’t seem to be working. He emails her, not every night, but close to it. Asks her questions about the material he sends like he genuinely wants her opinion on the matter. Makes her laugh about whatever ridiculous new thing that his roommates are doing, amuses her with folktales of the Harvard of old. And gives her tips on how to deal with their mother.

Lena’s chest aches every night that she checks and there isn’t a new email. It begins to happen more frequently, the longer that he’s away. She knows that he’s busy, with homework and his new friends, and that he never, ever means to leave her hanging. Each time she doesn’t get an email, the next one is much longer. Sometimes she’ll even get two or three the next day. He always makes it up to her, but still, she aches with loneliness. Annoyed, that no one who lives in their house seems to understand her anymore.

He calls and tells them that he’s been invited to Aspen for the winter break, one of his new friends has a cabin up there. Lillian pouts, but it’s fake, put-upon for exactly no one. Lena can see how delighted she is by Lex making connections with ‘the right people.’

The same thing happens for spring break. Lex calls, chats with her happily for an hour, then tells her that he’s going to Spain.

Lena doesn’t exactly blame him, is the problem. If she had friends who she actually liked spending time with, and could go off and travel somewhere far away from their parents constantly scrutinizing eyes, she would jump at the chance to do it too.

He doesn’t take her with him, though, and that she blames him for. Lena would never go off and leave Lex behind. Not ever.

The resentment builds slowly inside of her chest, assuaged each time she receives a cheerful phone call that lasts over two hours, an email, chock full of pictures that Lex took just for her. Lena saves them all, stares at them when she’s feeling another panic attack coming on, focuses on Lex’s homework, and reads books of her own choosing that interests her. She does the bare minimum at school out of spite. Coasts her way through on C plus grades, makes sure that she does enough of the work so that she doesn't have to endure the humiliation of repeating the seventh grade. Lena spends all her time waiting for messages from Lex, and praying for June to come quickly.

…

…

Lex is home for three glorious weeks during the summer.

He sits on top of Lena's bed, tapping out a steady and unfamiliar beat on her shin, and looks over at her stuffed bookshelf. “What have you been reading?” he asks, tone aiming for casual but missing the mark by a lot. Lena knows perfectly well that she looks bonier than she’s ever been, paler too. This year has taken a strange toll on her body. She can feel his eyes tracking her for changes, confounded by this foreign little thing that his sister has become.

She’s doing the same to him. He looks different. Older. His hair is a little longer, and there’s a hint of stubble to the underside of his chin, and there’s a bit of tan to his skin. Not much, mostly he just burns, like Lena. He even smells different, though she can’t place how. Or what the smell even used to be. It’s jarring. Part of her wants him to leave.

They meet each other’s eyes finally, and she shrugs one shoulder at him. After all this time missing him, she can’t quite remember what it’s like to have him here. She suddenly doesn’t know how to talk to him in person anymore.

He reaches over and tugs on her nose, a smirk dancing around the edges of his mouth. When he pulls his hand back, his thumb sticks out and he wiggles it. “Gotcha,” he teases.

When Lena first came to live with them, he did that to her once. The first or maybe second week, Lena can’t remember exactly. They had sneaked down into the kitchen in the middle of the night, Lex finding the hidden cookies and the two of them dunking into the same glass of milk. He’d smirked and pretended that he’d stolen her nose, wiggling his thumb between his fingers and holding it just out of reach, while she cried and demanded her nose back, horrified that he would take something so fundamentally important to her. He hasn’t done it to her in years, maybe. Resorting to it now only further serves to make Lena think of all the differences that have grown between them in the last year.

“I’m thirteen,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his hand away, as she sits up and walks towards the door.

“Not yet,” he reminds her. “Not for two whole days.” He leans back on top of her bed, propping himself up, elbows jutting out weirdly in that double-jointed way of his. “Still time to go to Neverland,” he laughs.  

She’s about to snap at him, tell him off for talking to her like a baby, tell him how much more she knows about the world now. About the parties that she’s gone to this year, sitting on the edges of the commotion, watching.

Learning. Without him to guide her at all, not really.

She doesn’t. She turns around first, and she sees something in his face that stops her. He doesn’t look older anymore, he looks, so, _so young._ Just for a flash of a second, he seems younger than she’s ever been in her whole life. For the first time since she’s met him, Lena feels like the big sister.

“Only worth it if you come too,” she teases back. “I’d be bored of fairies and mermaids if we couldn’t fight pirates together.”

Lex smiles wide, and her big brother reappears.

“Come on,” he jumps up, bouncing on his toes like he did when he was eleven. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“Lex—”

“Can’t take you flying Ace, but I can teach you to drive,” his eyes twinkle with excitement. With the prospect of breaking the rules together. And Lena is swept up in it, like always.

She sits on his lap, and pushes his foot into the gas petal that her leg won’t quite reach. His hands are there, ready to take the wheel if need be, so Lena is fearless. They go fast, faster, and then faster still, the both of them laughing wildly, flipping off two cops and speeding away before anyone can catch them.

She feels like herself again, for the first time since Lex left.

…

…

Superman announces himself to the world on a Wednesday, and Lex is glued to the television. Lena watches the corners of his mouth dip deeper and deeper into a frown. Watches him hunch over his laptop, replaying clips of the scene on a new website called YouTube, and prickles with something she doesn’t want to name.

He gets like this, sometimes. Overexcited, passionate, a little obsessive.

But it’s never made Lena feel a small sense of dread in her gut before. It’s never made Lex rant this vitriolically. She understands the phrase ‘raving mad’, better than she ever has before. It takes ages of coaxing for her to be able to calm him down, but it does happen, and Lena wonders if maybe she’s making a bigger deal out of his anger than she needs to.

She teases him into taking her out to dinner, _I’ll be a high school graduate soon, you have to celebrate with me._

Lex pulls at his hair, and Lena watches, thoughtful, and a little disturbed.

…

…

When Lex finds out about her grades, he is properly horrified and furious. He threatens to tell their parents if she doesn’t get her act together, and his emails start coming with attachments that advertise an all-girls boarding school, up near Harvard.

_Come on Ace, you’ll never get in with those shabby grades. Don’t you want me to take you to Fenway Park?_

The prospect of getting out of Metropolis, of going to school near him, of being completely out of range from the watchful eye of her mother, is far too enticing to pass up. She won’t be able to convince her parents on her own, and Lex says that he refuses to work on Lillian, until she’s not coasting by with C’s anymore. He tells her that she’s only got six months of middle school left to pull her grades up, or he won’t take her traveling with him this summer, either.

She’s back at a perfect 4.0, all straight A’s, in just under two.

When she sends Lex her report card via email, he immediately calls the house not a full minute later—her emails alert his Blackberry straight away, now—and he’s laughing and laughing and laughing into the phone line.

“Atta girl Ace,” he finally says, once he’s caught his breath. “See you in a few months.”

They can’t go by fast enough.

…

…

“Did he scare you, ever?” Kara asks, out of nowhere.

Lena looks up from her paperwork, turns to Kara, casually lounging on her white couch, a donut in hand. They’ve finished their lunch, both reluctant to leave this little bubble and go back to work properly. Lena feels a quick, interested pulse of adrenaline that she doesn't betray with her face. “Sorry?” she asks, voice casual as if she has no idea what Kara could possibly be referring to.  

“Lex,” clarifies Kara, looking a little sheepish. Like she shouldn’t pry. “I just meant,” she knocks her head down into the back of the couch. “I don’t know what I meant actually,” biting at her lip, she looks down at her lap, and Lena suspects this conversation has less to do with Lex, than it has to do with something else that Kara is working through herself. _What,_ she genuinely has no idea.

“A few times,” she answers, truthfully. “It didn’t happen overnight.”

Kara hums, bites her donut, and nods without looking Lena in the eye. She’s beautiful, even like this, hiding truths and fumbling through white lies while simultaneously being the best friend that Lena’s ever had.

She wonders if this is how Lex felt with Clark, sometimes. Each time that it happens, she has to swallow back a burst of hysterical laughter. Kara, looking at her with a small band of worry in the corner of her eyes.

It might be easier not to try and have a friend at all. But then it would just be Lena, alone with her thoughts rattling around her brain, and she can’t have _that._

She could tell Kara what it was really like for her back then, if she were feeling vindictively brave, ready and willing to put all her cards out on the table, so to speak. She could tell Kara how she looked at Lex and saw something that was no longer human. Something _other._ (Or, something that is impossibly human. Other species don’t attack each other the way humans are constantly waging wars, stringing up the ones they love the most and leaving them, gasping for painful breaths.)

Lena knows, now.

She didn't, then. 

She wonders—not for the first time, or even the thousandth—if she had admitted what she was almost sure of sooner, louder, more forcefully, until her mother, until _someone_ , was forced to listen and _help_ him, what the outcome would have been.

But something about her still a little too vindictive, a little too angry, and she keeps her mouth shut tight as Kara gives her a small little smile and changes the subject. Kara isn’t willing to lay all of her cards out on the table, yet, and Lena isn’t going to be the first one to fold.

No matter how beautiful she thinks that Kara may be. Or how intoxicating a hug from her may feel.

She’s still a Luthor, and old habits die hard.

…

…

Her new school is full of other girls whose parents are constantly in the papers. _Luthor_ still holds an impressive sound on their tongues, but there is a distance, in Massachusetts, from the years and years of history that it holds in Metropolis. There are names here that can be traced back further than Luthor, whether or not they hold as much weight in the country now, New England is a different ballgame. _Here,_ they mean something still.

Lena drags her bags along into her new dorm room, Lex with her heavy suitcase and two other bags, coming up behind her. At least she won't stand out, she thinks, or stand-alone, with Lex over at Harvard. The moment she has the thought, she feels sick. She looks over at Lex, watches him half-flirt with an older girl, balancing all of Lena’s bags with ease. She watches him walk through the Harvard campus later, giving her a tour, giving her the code to his new apartment so she can let herself in whenever she wants. He holds his head high, at his campus and on hers. A Luthor stands unique and proud. A Luthor doesn't meekly fade into the background.

Lena straightens her spine when he taps her underneath the chin. “See you later Ace,” he grins, and then she’s alone, again.

He’s only a thirty-seven-minute train ride away, now though. Just one connection.

It’s easier to hold her head up, with that knowledge. Easier to plop herself down into lounge chairs in the common room like she belongs. Easier to turn up her nose at people she knows are here on scholarships, girls that her mother wouldn’t approve of. Girls who can offer Lena nothing. Easy to make a few sharp comments, and get the girls whose parents Lillian probably would get wet for to laugh and turn their bodies in towards Lena. It’s so easy, to turn herself into something hard and a little bit vulgar, all sharp edges and quick-witted. An ice queen in the making.

By the third week of school, she’s even got a few juniors following her around, a whole clique of girls vying for her attention, and she plays a game that she never bothered with, back in middle school. It’s made easier, now that her boobs have gone up a cup size, and she’s learned a few makeup tricks from her mother’s stylists. Lena teaches her roommate, Hadley, how to conditioner her hair with coconut oil, and is rewarded with a weekend trip to Napa Valley. She sneaks a few Algebra answers to a girl down the hall, and receives bouquets of flowers bursting out of her dorm room and a new place to sit at lunch in grateful thanks once the girl finds out that she passes her course. Lena calculates everything. Watches her peers the way that Lex taught her, years ago, the two of them making a guessing game to figure out which Hogwarts house people would be in with only a few minutes of observation allowed. Sizing people up as quickly as possible. Games of chess, with people instead of bishops, and rooks.

When she takes the train up to Lex’s apartment, with two girls in tow, they gape at him, going beet red and twirling their hair and looking at Lena with envy. She watches Lex laugh and pay far more attention to her, winking at Lena and rolling his eyes when they turn and giggle to each other.

When her parents come to take her out to dinner at the beginning of winter, Lionel on a business trip in Boston, the girls on her floor coo and flit around dramatically as she doles herself up, knowing that Lex will be joining them. Her mother’s eyes widen when Lena saunters out of her room, tossing a casual goodbye and dismissal of them all as she joins her family.

She feels something strange when Lillian loops their arms together on the walk down to the town car, a twinkle of something that feels like pride in her mother’s eyes. There’s a thrumming in Lena’s muscles, a thrumming in her mind. It takes her a second to find the word for it; a word that she hasn’t gotten to use for herself in a long time. The word is power.

They eat and chat, and it’s one of the more cordial family dinners that the Luthors have ever had. When they walk Lena back to her dorm, hours and hours later, well beyond the curfew, her father tugs her into a deep and warm hug. “You seem happy here,” he whispers, while Lex and Lillian walk a bit ahead of them, talking about Lex’s most current _almost_ girlfriend. It’s a conversation that’s been going on far too long for Lena and Lionel, who’d caught each other’s eyes partway through dinner and made knowing faces when Lillian wasn’t paying attention.

“I like it,” Lena shrugs. “My engineering teacher lets me down into the lab after school hours. He’s working on this robot thing, like, just for fun. And students who want to play around with it are allowed. It’s not extra credit, but I don’t need it anyway.”

Her father smiles, tugging her further into his side. “My brilliant little girl,” he sing-songs. “God,” he shakes his head, breath coming out in puffs from the temperature. “You remind me so much of my grandmother.”

Lena beams. “Really?”

“She was brilliant. Could fix any problem at her father’s steel mill in a few hours. LuthorCorp probably never would have become what it is today without her influence on my father. The Luthor women have always been the best of us,” he teases. “Edna sure was proof of that. Hob’s Bay didn’t know what hit them.”

Lena’s grin widens, Edna Luthor has always been her favorite Luthor ancestor, apart from Nana. But that doesn’t count really, because Nana is alive and Lena knows her, Edna is almost mythic.

Her father’s face changes, thoughtful as Lillian bursts out with a rap of laughter before them. “You know, you don’t have to befriend people the way they do,” he nods towards the two fairer-haired Luthors.

Lena thinks about the genuine smile that her father awards Aoife, every single day. About his friend Charles, who he golfs with on free weekends whenever he gets the chance, even though he loathes golf. About his best friend, Gabe, who grew up near the south side of Hob’s Bay, and met Lionel by chance back when they were both eleven, utterly different social classes, races, life directions, but who stuck together like glue from that moment on. How Lionel loves him, probably more than all of his rich corporate friends combined, and defends him to Lillian, calmly but without any hint of backing down. Lex has never done that. His friends have always been as disposable as Lena’s. Favors and company traded off and enjoyed until it’s not any longer. They both learned from Lillian, who doesn’t let a single person close that Lena knows of. Doesn’t have a single genuine friend that wouldn’t turn right around and gossip behind her back a moment later. Her mother doesn’t award anyone who isn’t graced with the surname Luthor a goddamn thing.

It’s surprising, how easily Lena has slipped into her mother’s footsteps, in just a few short months. How much she _liked_ it.

“Yeah,” she whispers, unsure. “Okay.”

Lionel doesn’t push, just drops a kiss to her temple, offers the security guard tasked with rounding up curfew violators a breezy smile and a hundred-dollar bill for his troubles, and sends Lena off to bed.

She lays on top of the covers, listening to her roommate’s even breathing, and frowns up at the ceiling.

…

…

A week before her brother goes mad—

No. Close, but still not yet.

…

…

Lex convinces her to move in with him for grad school. _Come back to Metropolis Ace. Ignore Mom. Fuck that French girl; you’re better than her anyway. I’m bored. I’m lonely. I’m dying at LuthorCorp all by myself. Aoife misses you._

A hundred reasons, rapid-fire, Lena unable to get a word in edgewise.

_Please, Ace, please._

She gives in, because she always does, when Lex asks.

It’s a nice apartment—because it would be stupid for it not to be, with their money—but it’s not extravagant. It’s relatively under their means, but it’s _cozy_ in a way that no place other than Lena’s apartment in France has ever been.

She loves it, and she can tell that Lex does too.

She comes and goes from her classes, Lex popping in and out from LuthorCorp meetings, and they manage to have dinner together at least three times a week. Sometimes in his office, with Lena working on homework, and Lex, on prepping for meetings in the morning, take-out sprawled out between them.

Sometimes down in the labs of Metropolis University, Lena tinkering away on a project, Lex nibbling on an apple, occasionally looking up from his laptop to offer a suggestion.

Sometimes they actually eat at the table in their apartment, Lex, ditching out of an appointment early because he’s bored, or thinks the Irish man he’s meeting with is a wanker, or because he has a date, or, just because he’s the CEO now, and he _can._ Lillian is on the board, and can distract the rest of them from anything that she wants.

Once, Lena comes home from a grueling meeting with her advisor in possibly the foulest mood she’s been in since the days after Lionel’s funeral. Every little thing causes her to snap with impressive and cutting viciousness. She’s fully prepared to scream at Lex until her voice is raw once she sees him, dancing unabashedly in their kitchen, an apron that has—of all the things—Superman’s symbol on its front, and a blueberry pie cooking in the oven.

She stops, frozen at the sight. Then she actually just drops down to the kitchen floor, too tired to even bother trying to maneuver herself onto the couch. It’s just, with her eyes burning until they water and a kink in her spine like part of her body is trying for a record-breaking contortionist move without notifying the rest of her, this has been a really, really long day. The longest week of finals in her whole life, maybe.

Lex produces tequila from somewhere, and as usual, Lena shakes her head in refusal. A mug of tea is placed in front of her a few minutes later, and she knows, when she sips it, that he’s spiked it with a bit of brandy, but it’s small enough that she drinks it anyway, letting it warm her aching muscles.

He doesn’t say anything, just plops down beside her, the two of them leaning back against the counter, a full blueberry pie and two forks in front of them. “Dinner is served Ace,” he announces, clinking their forks together, then digging in merrily.

By the time half of the pie is gone, the kink in Lena’s spine has loosened considerably, and by the time the entire pie is gone, Lex has got her laughing. Telling her the story behind the Superman apron—a gag joke from an asshole he went to Harvard with—and by her second mug of tea, she’s sleepily leaning against him, this awful day forgotten and over with, because her idiot brother made her blueberry pie for dinner.

She’s so, so glad, that she took him up on his offer, in this moment. She can’t imagine their lives being any other way.

…

…

Veronica Sinclair kisses her before spring break.

It’s different from the kiss she shared with Sean Harris, two years ago at a party. That was chaste and quick. The two of them blushing and running away the moment that the deed was done. Both eager to have it happen, and eager for it to be done with.

Veronica kisses her slow.

She’s a sophomore, and she clearly knows more about what she’s doing than Lena does. She tugs Lena closer, and she complies, her newly fifteen-year-old limbs tucked awkwardly around Veronica to make them fit together on the small loveseat. Veronica kisses her jaw, licks into her mouth, her fingers brush against the underside of Lena’s bra, and every single part of Lena’s body _hums._

 _Oh,_ she breathes. _Oh._

Veronica is a sophomore, and she clearly knows more about what’s she’s doing than Lena does, so Lena trusts her.

That’s her first mistake.

She comes back from their spring break exuberant, finds Veronica within the first few minutes, beaming at her, and it takes her a second to realize that Veronica isn’t smiling back. That she’s flanked by more sophomores and a few juniors, and they’re all glaring at Lena.

The words: groped, dyke, carpet muncher, and other, horrible things that Lena doesn’t recognize are spat hatefully out into the air, and Lena’s blood runs cold. Veronica stands in the middle of the hoard of girls, arms crossed, a smirk, all teeth and aggressive curl of lips, directed straight at Lena. She has no idea how they went from Veronica, flirting with her for weeks, to Veronica, pulling her into a kiss, to Veronica, instigating _this._

She wants to turn and run, but she’s a Luthor. Instead, Lena takes three, aching, deliberate steps forward until she is standing directly in front of Veronica and her group of friends. “Fuck you,” she tells Veronica coolly, then turns and walks as calmly away from them as she can manage. Only breaking into a faster jog once she’s well out of their sight. Still, not enough to draw the attention from other girls. She doesn’t allow a single tear to fall until she’s in the safety of her dorm room. And then, she can’t seem to make them stop.

She doesn’t remember calling Lex, but he’s there suddenly, scooping her up into his arms and pulling her outside. She has class at one, Lena remembers dimly, but Lex says ‘fuck that,’ and holds her hand as they hop on the T.

When Lena realizes where he’s taken her, she bursts out laughing, her throat raw and scratchy.

Lex spins around, taunting her as he walks backwards in front of Lena. “SWEEEET CAROLINEEE,” he belts out to the empty Fenway Park. Lena swipes at her face, she must look _awful_ right now. Lex must have paid off someone a fortune to be allowed to run down these steps, leap out onto the field, and pick up a baseball. “COME ON ACE,” he screams. “GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE.”

She follows, hesitantly dropping herself down over the pitch and walks out onto the field. Neither of them even really likes baseball all that much. It’s _fine,_ but it’s not a favorite pastime for them or anything. All the same, Lex directs her onto home plate, tosses baseballs at her until she hits one, and then two of them run the bases together, belting ‘Sweet Caroline’ the whole way, until Lena is breathless with laughter, the two of them sliding into home, paying no attention to their dirt covered clothes.

He walks her back to school, an arm casually and protectively slung over her shoulder as they make their way up the stairs to her dorm. “Don’t worry Ace,” he promises. He doesn’t elaborate, but Lena has heard that dangerous lit to his voice before. She climbs into her bed after showering off the dirt, rolling over onto her side and ignores her roommate when she slips inside and gets herself ready for bed in the dark.

It happens two days later.

Lena holds her head high, higher than ever before, as she shuffles through her classes, the cafeteria, and the library. Veronica and her friends throw taunts, and a few harder, tangible things her way as well, and Lena doesn’t even so much as look at them.

The third day, when Lena walks down to breakfast, the hall is silent, and Veronica is nowhere to be seen. Her clique of friends are all in their usual corner, but they all look away from Lena the moment they catch sight of her—something like fear in their eyes.

It takes half an hour for the rumors to reach Lena, because she’s somewhat of a social pariah these days, but once it finally reaches her, Lena’s head snaps up. Her piece of toast hovering in front of her mouth.

 _She got caught out after curfew. I heard something about the hospital! Might not be back next year. The craziest thing. So freaky, right?_ whispers surround Lena and she holds her breath. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she flips it open and types out a quick text message to Lex.

 **[Lena 08:30 am]** _what did you do?_

 **[Lex 08:32 am]** _told you Ace, don’t worry._

Lena drops her toast down onto the plate. Her big brother is somewhere out in Cambridge, probably pacing from one corner of a room to another, like a caged animal surveying his options. Lena imagines that his fists are clenched tight and his butcher-knife smile is turned into a snarl; there has always been so much anger inside of him, ready to pounce at the drop of a hat. Lena tucks her phone back into the pocket of her blazer, picks her toast back up, turns and looks at Veronica’s clique, and feels a smile spread over her face as they all sink further down into their seats. Not a single person taunts her about her sexuality—which she confirms, a year later, casually—or anything else, for the rest of her time at school.

Veronica comes back two weeks later, to pack up her things. She jolts when she catches sight of Lena in the hall, pure accident as she’s on her way to History. Her left wrist has a deep green cast on it, and Lena hisses painfully at the sight. That wrist was underneath her shirt, almost two months ago. That wrist threw pebbles at her head when the matrons weren’t looking in the library. That wrist was broken by her brother.

It’s apparent, once she catches sight of Veronica’s face. She flinches a bit, pulling her body away from Lena, turning towards her mother, as if Lena is going to lunge at her, too. She doesn’t, it never even occurs to her. Veronica walks quickly with her mother down the hall, down the stairs, and then Lena never sees her again.

Not until they both end up in National City, over a decade later. Veronica covered in tattoos, no broken bones to speak of, calling herself Roulette.

Lena stares at her arm, at the way that Veronica flinches apologetically, at the way that the sea of girls part for her for the next three years. The only rumors about Lena that float around are how _fantastic_ of a kisser she is, how brilliant. About how hot and charming her brother is, or how _powerful_ the Luthors are. She doesn’t look at that arm and think _dangerous._ Doesn’t think, _this is a warning sign._ She’s newly fifteen, a high school freshman, she looks at the girl who kissed her and then turned around and taunted her, and only thinks wow, her brother loves her that much, then. He’s made her untouchable. It’s a nice thing to have, proof of how loved you are.

…

…

Eight days after the conclusion of Lex’s trial, Lena steps across the threshold of their apartment and knows abruptly that she can’t live there anymore. She packs up the few things that she can stand to bring, and never walks back inside. When she walks through the doors of LuthorCorp, responsibility pulls taut across her shoulders and she wants to _scream._

She can’t be in Metropolis at all then, it would seem.

It’s maddening, to switch headquarters from Metropolis to National City, but she does it. She buys an apartment close enough that she can get to L-Corp quickly, but far enough away that it feels like she actually _leaves_ work.

Clark Kent comes round and hounds her right away. She’s barely even settled into her new office, and he follows her out of Metropolis.

There’s a girl with him. Doe-eyed, and stunning in almost an infuriating way. Lena flirts with her because she can, because she wants to, because Lex doesn’t get to take away _everything_ and because it throws Clark Kent off too, just a bit.

Clark goes back to Metropolis and takes everything that he represents back with him, but he leaves Kara Danvers. She keeps showing up at Lena’s office, and it’s fun, to flirt and tease and maybe have a reporter who is green as fuck, but is brimming with potential to be onto Lena’s side. Or close to it.

Lena goes home to a half-furnished apartment that looks absolutely nothing like the one she and Lex shared for the last six years. She spends very little time there, the first few months. Sleep, and very early mornings, and very late nights that never seem to span more than forty minutes are all that she allows herself. She doesn’t decorate. Not until she’s been there for five months, and Kara Danvers gives her a painting for Christmas, a deep blush on her face when she admits that she actually painted it herself.

Lena hangs it up in her front room, and it makes her smile, every time that she sleepily shuffles into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee at five a.m.

Two months after that, her assistant, Jess, buys her a vintage lamp that she _swears_ up and down cost her absolutely nothing but reminded her of Lena. After a bit of grumbling, it goes into her living room, not too far away from Kara’s painting.

It’s not until over a year and a half later, when Alex Danvers gifts her with four plants and a bottle of tequila that she makes any additions. They both go underneath a window, untouched, but looking nice. Like they belong.

When she’s been in National City for two years, and officially become friends—real, genuine _friends_ —with Kara, Alex, and Winn that she branches out a bit further with the decorations. Maggie and James are still acquaintances, pleasant to spend time with, but still awkward for Lena to be around unless someone else is there as a buffer. All the same, Maggie warmly gifts her with a bonsai tree and an easy hug. It goes beside Alex’s plants, sure to die a slow, neglected and painful death right alongside with them.

James gifts her with a photograph for her birthday. It’s of Lena, sitting on Kara’s couch, squished in the middle of Kara and Winn, Alex is laughing from behind them, one arm slung around Maggie, the other on Lena’s shoulder. Lena and Winn are both grinning at James, behind the camera, but Kara—Kara is beaming at Lena.

She cries, when James gives it to her. He sits, not saying anything, but his hand hovers over hers for a few awkward seconds before he gently grips it. She squeezes back, and when she looks up at meets his eyes, she knows, that they’ve moved from pleasant acquaintances, to friends.

Kara kisses her hurriedly weeks later, knocking a coat rack down and smashing into her couch. It breaks, stuffing flying everywhere and the two of them cannot stop laughing—or kissing—through Kara’s apologies.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lena shushes her. “I didn’t even pick it out. I didn’t pick any of this out.”

Kara takes her furniture shopping the next morning. Bookshelves appear mysteriously, three days later, accompanied by a note with Alex’s messy scrawl saying only, _Jesus, you’ve got too many books, nerd. You’re welcome._ She trips when she walks through her front door, a week after that, to find that Winn has left her a stack of video games that comes up to her hips, and installed a PlayStation in her living room. She’s slightly unnerved by their ability to break into her apartment so easily, but relaxes when Kara later reminds her that she gave her a key.

She’d completely forgotten. It was an emergency at the time. She’s never gotten it back.

She does ask for it now, either.

“Unbelievable,” she whispers to herself, but she can’t stop smiling. Two years into living in National City, and finally, this place is finally starting to feel like a home.

…

…

Her brother goes mad the day that their father dies, but then again, so does Lena.

A high school graduate for exactly one month, jumping into the Mediterranean ocean, calling out for Lex to watch as she flips, doing a cannonball into the stunning blue water. When she pops back up, her head breaking the surface, shoving her hair out of her eyes and laughing, she catches Lex falling to the ground, chucking his phone into the ocean and screaming out in agony. He starts pounding the earth, his fists flinging, bloody and wild while Lena swims to him as fast as she can. Hauling herself up out of the water and running to him. “What is it?” she gasps, trying to catch hold of his limbs. “What happened?” he hits her on the thigh as she tries to grab hold of his arm. “Lex!” she screams, “ _stop!”_

He punches the ground again, and Lena hears a terrible crack. She jumps on top of him, ignoring the way that his fists still fly until she has (somehow) managed to sit on top of all his limbs, holding him in place while he sobs.

“What is it?” she asks softly, over an hour later, once he’s finally stopped shaking. She knows, whatever it is, is going to be horrible.

“Dad,” he croaks out. “It’s Dad.”

Lena’s entire world flips on its axis.

And then, it’s Lex, holding her down while she screams, and screams, and screams, shivering in her bikini, sitting on top of a beautiful rock overlooking the ocean. 

She feels numb the entire walk back to their villa. The whole time they pack up their things. While the doctor wraps Lex’s arm up into a cast. The entire flight back home. While she sits through men and women, shuffling in and out of the Luthor manor, making funeral arrangements. She doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t eat, and she feels utterly and completely insane as she stands there in a black dress, with a sweater that her mother made her put on, that might be giving her heatstroke, while a priest goes on and on about Lionel Luthor’s accomplishments, and Lex’s eyes stare, dead, out at the coffin in front of them.

Lex pulls himself out of his madness when he walks back inside of their home, his eyes are red, shocked and frightened, but he can eat. He can sleep—not much, but he can do it. His moment of madness was abrupt, painful, and fleeting.

Lena’s will not go away.

She starts drinking, a lot. Grabs the most expensive liquor out of her father’s cabinet, and still goes out to bars, anyway. She brings home girls and screams at her mother. She loses her virginity in a drunken hook-up with a girl that she doesn’t remember. She has more memory the second time, but far less the third. By August, she’s stopped bothering to keep track.

Lex puts on a suit, brushes back his hair, and sits down in her father’s office. Aoife brings him his morning coffee. Lena watches him leave and claws at her own skin with her fingernails, leaving angry red marks up and down her legs.

She stops keeping track of the girls who’s beds she spends time in, but she knows exactly what number panic attack this is: nineteen. It’s very much like her first, six years prior. She is lying in a foreign bed this time, a redhead asleep beside her, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whips around and around and around. Then, just like before, she is suddenly and abruptly unable to breathe. Out of nowhere. She curls in on herself, tears coursing down her cheeks. And some part of her brain is calm, again, acknowledging, like that first time, that she is trying to scream. No sound comes out this time, either.

When it’s over, she sits up slowly, finds her clothes from the floor, and rushes into the bathroom to vomit. When she rises and looks at herself in the mirror, she doesn’t recognize the girl staring back.

She finds her phone, and calls her brother.

He cancels an entire day of meetings, tugs his tie loose, and pulls her into a hug, and takes her to a shitty diner up in Bakerline. They gorge themselves on greasy burgers—the most that Lena’s eaten in a single meal for a month. He orders her a chocolate milkshake, throws the cherry at her head, and says, “You look like shit.”

“I know,” she snaps.

“Congratulations on getting laid though,” he steals one of her fries. “She looked hot. From the brief angle I saw.”

Lena throws the second cherry at his head, and she smiles, for the first time in a month. It feels like a little bit of the fog is starting to lift. “I think I hate alcohol.” He laughs at her, and sips his coffee. “I do,” she insists. The second that he sets his coffee down, she steals it from him. “I’m never drinking again,” she declares.

“Loads of people say that.”

“Don’t be patronizing, asshole.”

“I’m just stating a simple fact—”

Lena flings some of her milkshake onto his suit.

“Wow,” he swipes it off, pretending to be angry, but unable to hide his grin. “Who’s the asshole now?”

“It’s still you,” Lena pulls one of her legs up, half crouching in the booth, her hands warming around Lex’s coffee mug. “School’s gonna be hard.”

“Nah, you’re great at school,” he assures her. “Life is what’s gonna be hard.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just being honest.”

Lena swirls her finger around the coffee mug, smiling automatically at the waitress that slips over and tops it off for her. Her hands shake when she tries to pick it back up again. Lex reaches over, slips one of his into hers and squeezes. “Come on Old Sport,” he tosses some money down onto the table. Easily double what they owe. Same as her father always did. “Let’s get out of here. You’re getting a little ripe.”

“Don’t fucking start with the Old Sport thing again,” she groans, ignoring the ripe remark because she knows it to be true, and it doesn’t need any further comment.

He opens the door for two old men to walk inside. “Have a great day old sport!” he calls out to one of them.

“Stop,” Lena pleads.

“So, one of these old sports at work—”

Lena jabs him in the side with her elbow. “I will throw the book at your head again. Only I’ll find a hardcover copy this time,” she threatens.

“One day, I will convert you into becoming a lover of _Catcher in the Rye,_ ” he says.

“No, you won’t.”

“Might do,” he grins, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they stroll down the sidewalk. When they get home, Lena jumps into the shower immediately, and when she comes back out, clad in a tank top and cotton shorts, towel drying her hair, Lex is sitting on her bed. Suit off, shorts and t-shirt on. “Want to go for a run?” he asks.

Lena wrinkles up her nose, because _no_ is always the answer to that question, and she _just_ showered, but the thought of just sitting around in the manor makes her skin feel like it’s on fire, so she nods and follows him back out the door. They jog slowly, not talking, and soon they’ve got a rhythm going. Lena doesn’t have to think about anything but the sound of their feet hitting the dirt. And by the time they slow to a walk, cooling down on their trek back home, her head feels clearer than it has in ages.

“Thanks Lex,” she says, once she’s regulated her breathing.

He grins, looking at her, and then at something out behind her. “What are siblings for, if not to ply you with milkshakes, tell you that you look like shit, and throw you into a pool after you’ve gone a bit mad for a while?” he shrugs.

“What?” Lena frowns. “What pool—”

He grabs her around the middle, hauling her up into the air, and she screams as they plunge together into a neighbor’s freezing water.

…

…

“Your mother is the head of Cadmus,” Supergirl says, full of confidence in her words, and sympathy for what they mean.

Lena tosses her out on her ass—metaphorically speaking.

It’s not _fair,_ that this is allowed to happen to her twice. It is indescribably, unfair.

It’s happening to her anyway, it would seem.

Supergirl keeps coming around after Lena has her mother arrested. She pops up here and there, almost as if she is checking up on her, and Lena doesn’t know what to do with the lack of rage that she feels. Supergirl is quiet, and empathetic, and will not stop asking her questions.

It takes Lena much longer than it should, to realize that Supergirl is Kara. Or, that Kara is Supergirl. She’s _furious,_ once she realizes. Partly, for being had. Partly, for not figuring it out sooner. But mostly, at Kara, for making her fall in love, with her friendship, with her presence, with _her,_ and lying to Lena the whole fucking time.

When some reptiles are threatened, Lena remembers reading once, they will self-amputate bits of themselves in order to get away. They call it autotomy; shedding skin, removing tails, leaving behind bits of themselves in their wake to buy more time. To regroup and live another day. 

Lena answers Supergirl’s questions, gives Kara a chunk of herself, and waits.

…

…

Lex keeps tugging at his hair. Lena comes home to find him ranting about Superman, watching the news, and tugging himself into a bald spot.

She listens to him until she can’t hear herself think anymore. Then turns off the television, grabs hold of his hand so he can’t do any more damage, and accepts his offer to work part-time at LuthorCorp until she finishes grad school.

“They’re unnatural,” he hisses, working himself back up. “He flies around and casts judgment on us. Doesn’t adhere to our rules, thinks that he’s a fucking _god,_ ” he throws his cup into the wall, glass shattering all around them. Lex doesn’t even seem to notice. He paces, barefoot, right onto the glass until Lena yells and quickly grabs him.

“Sit down,” she orders, forcing him onto the couch and getting some tweezers. He keeps ranting, his feet propped up in her lap as she pulls shards of glass out one by one. When she pours the hydrogen peroxide on the wounds, she feels a little vindictive in the way he finally flinches and looks at her with clear eyes.

Lena notes all of this as carefully as she can, and listens to the rants that pour out of Lex’s mouth in the late hours of the evenings. She sits in her room, or in a lab, and studies and aches with something that she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to name.

There are no lines in his face to indicate any change or growth, but all the same, Lena feels suddenly removed from him, there is a distance that wasn’t there before, doesn’t matter how close she’s standing beside him, it grows and grows.

Of course, her mother thinks that _she_ is the one being crazy, and paranoid.

“Lex is _fine,”_ she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Perfect,” she adds, looking Lena’s outfit up and down. “Are you going to wear that in the labs? Darling, you’re a Luthor, you need to make a better impression if you’re going to be working here. Even part-time. There’s a dress in my closet that will fit you. Go put it on.”

Fighting her doesn’t feel worth it, Lena has long since learned to pick her battles when it comes to her mother. “Why do you have a closet in your office?” she asks instead, walking over to where Lillian pointed.

“Darling, I work very hard, and sometimes I need to be able to change quickly for a meeting or a fundraiser. Why _wouldn’t_ I have a closet in my office is the better question?”

“Because board members don’t even _have_ offices here,” Lena mumbles underneath her breath. “You just like feeling important,” she shucks out of her jeans and top, pulling the dress on over her head. It’s a completely ridiculous thing to wear down in the labs; there is no way that she isn’t going to get it dirty, and she tells Lillian as such.

Her mother frowns. “Don’t do that,” she orders, as if Lena could control every bit of mess from the wires and chemicals through sheer force of will. “Come over here and let me zip you up.”

“Mom,” Lena tries again. “I’m serious about Lex,” she turns around obediently. “It was incredibly unnerving. Like he almost didn’t recognize me, or even know I was there. I think there might be something really wrong. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

“Nonsense,” Lillian zips too fast and catches some skin. Lena yelps in pain. “Sorry,” she rubs it. “No blood, you’ll be fine,” turning Lena around, she forces her to meet her eyes. “So will Lex. He’s just stressed. Wayne Enterprises got the jump on a new piece of technology he was working on. He’ll bounce back and everything will be fine. Now, don’t get this dirty, it cost a fortune.”  

…

…

She falls in love in Paris.

Taking a gap year might be the single best decision that she has ever made. The second best is saying yes when a girl named Nathalie asks her out for a cup of coffee.

She holds a conversation with her, in choppy, terrible French that Nathalie teases her for, and manages not to swoon when she reaches over to loop their arms together as they walk down along the Seine.

She kisses her, two days later outside of a bakery; forever associating Nathalie with the smell of fresh, chocolate croissants.

They make love for the first time in Nathalie’s small apartment eleven days after that. Lena’s whole body thrumming pleasantly as Nathalie crawls back up and plants a kiss onto her nose, causing her to laugh until she can’t breathe, for no real reason that she can think of except for how _happy_ she feels.

They have coffee on her tiny balcony, wrapped up together in multiple blankets to shield themselves from the cool early winter air. And Nathalie introduces Lena to all of her friends, warm, affectionate people who tease her for her poor French and dole out hugs and kisses and smiles with ease.

Lena talks Nathalie into taking her to the Louvre, because she’s never been, and it would be stupid to live in Paris and _not_ go.

They exchange small but lovely Christmas presents, and Lena is pulled into their friends’ home in the countryside, everyone adamant that none of them will spend the holiday alone. Whether they celebrate it or not.

Winter slowly pulls itself out and into Spring, and Lena spends more time in Nathalie’s apartment than in the tiny thing she’s been renting as her own. She listens to music and reads with Nathalie’s arms around her, learns to cook in Nathalie’s cramped kitchen, and learns how to make Nathalie wet in under two minutes.

She’s never been happier in all her life, except for the time that Lex grinned as she beat him at a game of chess, and called her his baby sister.

By the end of Spring, Lena is ready to stay in Paris permanently, her mother and LuthorCorp be damned, Lex can come to visit. Then, Nathalie’s favorite aunt grows sick. They start spending less and less time together. Lena offers up her help at every opportunity, but Nathalie starts to grow impatient and snappish with everyone. Lena can feel their relationship slipping away, bit by bit, and hates herself for how childishly tight she clings. But it’s the first time that she has ever been in love, and she’s flying blind. The only loving relationships she has as a frame of reference are her father’s awkward and guilty affections, and Lex, unwavering and always there. So, she clings, and hopes.

But, it still ends.

They fight, horribly, and Nathalie leaves.

Weeks pass, and chocolate croissants now make Lena nauseous.

More weeks pass, and Nathalie’s aunt dies. Lena brings a small bouquet of white tulips to the funeral, hugs Nathalie tightly while she cries, and apologizes, over and over. For her loss, for the way that she reacted in their fight, for loving her, maybe.

Nathalie accepts the flowers, looks at Lena for a moment, then bends forward and kisses her deeply, not bothering to wipe any of the tears off of her face. “Je t'aime,” she whispers when she pulls back, and Lena knows, that it’s a goodbye. She nods, clings to her arm for a second longer, and Nathalie lets her. “Thank you for the flowers,” she says, when they both pull back. “I’m very, very glad to have met you,” she gives Lena a shaky smile. “And to have loved you.”

“Me too,” Lena whispers. She turns and leaves, before Nathalie can see her cry.

Lex calls and begs her to come home and live with him three days later. Lena listens to his rant of reasons and she packs her bags without a second thought.

…

…

Alright, then.

The day her brother goes mad:

It turns out, that when you’re spiraling, people treat you like you’re broken glass: something infinitely fragile, and infinitely dangerous. Lex doesn’t see her when Lena runs up behind him, but then, he hasn’t seen her properly for _weeks_ now and she’s been right there the whole time. Her voice goes raw, and there is suddenly no sound at all, and Lex’s finger is on a detonator.

Her big brother won’t ever make her blueberry pie for dinner again.

Lena is jerked backwards roughly, reaching, reaching for Lex as he laughs manically and doesn’t see her at all. The whole world shakes, and then Lena is on the ground. Scrambling, she tries to right herself and get to Lex, but the sound slowly begins to come back, and Lena isn’t the only one screaming, now.

Her brother won’t ever make her dinner again.

People are _screaming_ in agony and her brother ( _Lex, it was Lex)_ did this. He’s standing in the middle of it all, laughing.

The absolute worst part, the thing that hurts so deep inside of Lena’s chest, is that he looks happy. He looks happier than he has in months. It’s not manic anymore, it’s just _joy._ Lena has never been more terrified of anyone in all her life.

She tries to run to him anyway, because, it’s still Lex.

Someone holds her back and it takes her almost a full week of watching news reels of that day obsessively to realize that it was Superman. Because one second Lena is getting pulled back, and another, Lex is bound. Superman has him in a hold, and police, SWAT, the FBI, fucking _everyone,_ is surrounding them.

A little girl cries from two feet away, Lena looks over, and watches the last breath leave her body.

She drops to her knees and vomits.

Lex is placed in shackles. Doctors run around, saving as many people as they can, and Superman, the reason that Lex did this in the first fucking place, flies above and helps everyone. Lena included.

Her mother rushes to her hospital bed, and possibly, Lena thinks, she’s gone even more insane than Lex. She’s in a screaming rage. “WHERE IS MY SON?” her voice breaking at the sight of Lena, physically unharmed sitting with a woman whose daughter was killed. “Where is he?” she whispers, asking Lena this time.

“Gone,” is all Lena says. “I think he’s gone.”

It takes a few weeks for that statement to fully drive itself home, even though a part of Lena knows the surety of it the moment that it’s out of her lips.

She _sees_ him again—during the trial—but it’s not _Lex_ anymore. Her brother is gone. It’s worse, that he hasn’t actually gone anywhere. He’s right in front of her as she sits calmly beside her mother, listening to the horrific things that Lex has been doing—for over four years—right underneath Lena’s nose. He sat in their apartment thinking about them. In her lab. Probably even while she was right beside him, Lex was thinking of genocide, of inventions, of weapons and ego, and going mad with power and rage. Her brother was right there the whole time, but he wasn’t. He stayed right where he always was, beside Lena, and somebody else crept in.

Lillian refuses to acknowledge it. She testifies on his behalf at first, assuring the jury that Lex is a _good boy,_ a hard worker, a brilliant mind, someone who deserves a second chance. Redemption. Love.

They do not agree.

It takes _months,_ and during it, Lillian publicly changes her tune, but when they go home, privately, she rages just as good as Lex ever did. One year later, Lex sits in a maximum security facility, and will, for twenty-five consecutive lifetimes. An impossible sentence. Not a single option for parole, no visitors, no letters, no communication with the outside world. Lena sits on the living room couch, frozen and terrified, and notes that her mother does not tug at her hair.

Maybe it’s a sign that she will be okay. Maybe this is justifiable anger. Maybe it’s the only way that she knows how to process her grief.

Lena walks upstairs and goes into Lex’s childhood bedroom. Both of theirs remain exactly the way that they left them. Lena lies down on top of his pirate comforter and stares at the poster on his ceiling. It’s a gift that she gave him for his twelfth birthday, the final year he could go off to Neverland.

Lena wonders if maybe, that’s where he’s gone. But, he always promised that he’d take her with him, so it can’t be true.

Her bother is gone.

He won’t tell her when it’s time to go to bed again, nudging her away from the books and shuffling her towards her room. He won’t offer to let her work on his old car again, tinkering with the engine in ways that surpass even his knowledge, now that he’s stuck up in a suit in their father’s old office all day. He won’t ever toss a cherry at her head to get her to laugh. He won’t ever grab her wrist in the easy way of someone who knows he couldn’t ever really hurt her. He won’t ever dance like a moron in the middle of their kitchen, belting out all of the lyrics to _‘La Vie Bohéme’_ in the middle of the night again, not ever.

She’d always thought she’d be able to say goodbye, after not getting the chance with her father but—

It’s funny, but she’s still very, very sure not to let people see her cry.

…

…

Kara is with her when Lena sees him again. Fat clouds sit on the horizon, netted back by trees and stretching buildings as they walk into the prison. They look like bruises. 

They go through pat downs that leave Lena feeling more exposed than any round of sex has ever managed to do, apart from the one time she burst into embarrassing overwhelmed tears with Kara.

Alex glares at everyone who so much as even _looks_ in Lena’s direction, agitation and protectiveness wafting off of her. Lena has never felt more like she has something resembling an older sibling back in some capacity more than she does right now—while she is about to be confronted with her actual sibling. It’s a confusing mix of feelings.

Both of them offer to go in with Lena, again. And Lena turns them both down, again. She just needs them both to be _there,_ on the other side of the door. This, she needs to do alone.

Her hands shake, as she slowly walks into the room, and she remembers Lex telling her once that bravery is most of all what you do when your hands are shaking too hard to hold things; the irony is impressive.

He’s shackled to the floor. To the table. To himself.

She had wished that some distance between them would be there, a wall physically preventing him from breathing the same air, but there isn’t. There’s no glass with phones, no wall, just a table and two chairs. Lena walks over and sits down in the one her brother isn’t residing in, and looks him in the eye. He smiles at her. Lena wants to pull away, from his smile that says absolutely nothing that should be contained within a smile. It’s threatening, something that’s never been directed at her, from him. All teeth and aggressive curl of lips, something that Lena never wants to see again.

“Hi Ace,” he says. The words are casual, but she remembers that posture, watchful and wary—hell, she’s inherited it—and he might not have his hand on a detonator, or a gun, but he may as well have one cocked it in her face. It finally settles into her shoulders, that this is truly, truly not her brother anymore. She’s known. For the last three and a half years, that he’d gone mad and done horrible things, and the brother she loved was no longer. But this is the first time that she’s ever had a conversation with what remains as Lex.

He shifts his weight, leaning forward like a cat preparing to pounce, and she slumps back in her chair unconsciously to put a few more inches between them.

“Why did you do it?” It’s not the question that she came here to ask, but it’s what comes out of her mouth. And now she wants to know, wants him to give her a straight, genuine answer that will just _explain._ She wants to shove the question down his throat until he chokes on it.

“To save everybody Ace. To save you.”

“You didn’t save anyone Lex. All you did was hurt people. Superman saves people. Supergirl saves people. There are people out there who are kinder, and more compassionate than you, and they save people every day. Aliens and humans alike. You were wrong.”

His face twitches, but otherwise, he doesn’t let on that she’s bothered him.

“Why did you try to have me killed, after _you_ signed over control of L-Corp to me?” It’s really the only question she wants, other than the big, Why, that he is sure to never give her.

His face slips into genuine confusion. That’s what throws her more than anything. That’s when she realizes the truth. It was never him. The truth of their whole lives, is that despite all of it, he loves her too much. He wouldn’t, even still, hurt her. _That,_ that was always their dear old mother’s job.

Lena digs her nails into her forearm. He can’t give her anything anymore. It happened because it happened. Because Lex grew hateful and distrustful and allowed it to slowly consume him. Because he made the choice to act on it. Just like their mother. There is nothing that is going to justify or change that. Lena sits up, her head high, body ridged, and asks the questions that she has come here for. Lex taunts and teases her, because he always has, but she never smiles at him, she never unfolds her arms, never rises to his bait. She just asks her questions, over and over and over again, because he has declared that he will speak to no one but her.

It was a ploy. She realizes after a few minutes of him trying to change the subject to where she’s living, and how she’s getting on at L-Corp. Like he’s been off on vacation, and they’re finally catching up with each other. He’s twitchy, and keeps trying to reach out towards her underneath his shackles, and Lena prides herself on the fact that she doesn’t jerk away from him once, even though she desperately wants to. He can’t get to her, and he has nothing to give her.

He’s lonely.

She places her palms down onto the table, and stands up. “Goodbye Lex,” she says, and means it. She’s glad that she finally gets the chance to say it to him. Glad for the way the recognition tugs out on his face, just for a flash, he’s almost her brother again, young and scared and gone off and done something stupid.

Lena walks out of the room with her head held high, because once upon a time, her big brother told her that she deserves to. He may be gone now, but not every memory of him has to stay tainted. She doesn’t look back.

Lena walks out into the painfully bright hallway and both Danvers sisters jump up from the bench they were sitting on in unison, hurrying over towards her with nothing but love and concern on their faces. She breathes in, wet and heavy from the tears she doesn’t want to fall. She waves them off, and they get out of there as quickly as is possible, with a pat down on their exit waiting for them. Lena gives Alex a shrug and a sorry, and Alex gives her a fierce hug in return before leaving her in Kara’s care.

They go home.

Lena climbs into the shower, sobs into the water until she can’t hold herself up any longer. She’s thankful that even though Kara can definitely hear her, she gives her the privacy to grieve alone. When she dresses in a pair of leggings and a soft sweater that she thinks originally belonged to James Olsen, she walks back into the living room. Kara closes the distance between them in three steps and draws her forward, and Lena’s hair against her cheek is still wet from her shower—it's a stupid thing to focus on, the way it's sticking to Kara’s skin, but she can't help herself. Everything else feels too big.

“I’m fine,” she says, the words sound like a lie even as they fall from her lips.

“Lena—”

She screamed, then; a silent, hoarse desperate thing that tore itself out of her. Kara reminds her that yes, it happened, every time that she asks during breakfast the next morning, but Lena cannot, for the life of her, remember this. Her brother is gone, her mother tried to have her killed, and is out there hurting people again, and her father has been dead for thirteen years. Screaming seems like an honest reaction.

It takes Lena two cups of sleepy-time tea, an enthusiastic and well-intentioned if—for the first time since Lena has met her—not very on-key lullaby from Kara, and a final desperate dose of Benadryl before she feels sleep tugging her down. As she’s fading she feels Kara’s hands slip their way around her, and her face tucks itself gently into Lena’s neck. The last thing that Lena’s sleep-addled brain hears is Kara’s voice saying is, “I love you.” 

Lena sinks her body further into Kara’s warmth, and lets herself rest.

She dreams about standing up in the back of a red convertible, the wind whipping her hair around, her laughter mixing together with the voice that belongs to the steady hand on her calf, as the sun sets over Metropolis.


End file.
